


White flag.

by BeautifulKnight



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), References to Depression, Soul Stone (Marvel), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulKnight/pseuds/BeautifulKnight
Summary: He tried, halfheartedly, to drag another heel forward, but it was just too heavy. Another thought struck him, unbidden, unwelcome. Was he dead? He was dead, wasn’t he. Just like Ben. Peter's experiences inside the soul stone. SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR. Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, they are MARVEL properties.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, this one got a bit dark. This work references depression, so if that isn't for you then please find another fanfic. That all being said, I hope you enjoy.

Compared to the slow combustion of every atom in his body (burning agony. One. By. One), the remanifestation of himself was nothing. In one moment nothing was tangible, a complete absence of all senses and thought, then,

 

he was floating.

 

It seemed odd to him, but for a while he was content to just… be. But when the question of why he was floating and what the implications of floating were, air exploded from lungs he didn’t know he had. Everything was red, blood? Was he bleeding? It was everywhere. Surely he was going to drown in a sea of it. His throat was tight as his limbs struggled for purchase in the unknown liquid. Initially, progress was slow, but pure desperation drove him, clawing, swiping forwards. Up, down, left, or right, he didn’t know what direction he was moving, all he knew was he needed OUT.

 

Peter’s head broke the surface, gasping, he reached madly and found something solid, pulling himself onto it. He lay there for a long time, blinking the stinging liquid out of his eyes. It took him awhile to catch his breath, and even longer to remember Titan. He got up quickly after that.

 

His feet were braced against something dark orange, yet fluid. It was like standing on water, something impossible according to the laws of physics, but Peter took it over the burning nothingness from before. Somehow he’d gotten from below to above the surface, but even as he stomped on the liquid with his foot, it didn’t give. Strange. His eyes followed the orange water, where it blended nearly seamlessly with the yellow sky.

 

Well, it certainly looked like he was alone… wherever this was. He tried all the same, “Mr. Stark!?” He shouted, then after a few echoes, “May!?” If anything was possible in this place, maybe she was here. Nothing. “Tony?” He asked the horizon tentatively. No response from it, or from anyone else for that matter.

 

Fine. He would find someone, maybe he could finally meet the Hulk or Thor, he _had_ hoped to meet them after all, before everything went sideways. Not choosing any direction in particular, Peter set off, as unknown constellations swirled faintly above his head.

 

ooo

 

He didn’t know how long he had been walking, running, you name it, he’d done it. All he knew was that if he kept moving, surely _something_ would change. May would set a plate of pancakes in front of him and tell him to be home before 11, _“Remember, Peter. Stay. Safe.”._ Tony wouldn’t laugh at Peter’s antics exactly, but from his smirk, Peter could tell he was amused, _“Alright, kid, good luck out there.”._ Ned would stare openmouthed at Peter doing something spider-y in amazement and say something along the lines of, _“That is just so cool… what? Please don’t ever fire me as the guy in the chair, I don’t think I can ever go back to normal life after this.”_

 

Peter didn’t think so either, after this, after this unrelenting boredom and burning horizon. God, how he wished any of them were here. _“Loser.”_ What he wouldn’t give to hear Michelle tell him that. But he would keep going, what else could he do after all? He would keep going even if it meant the odds of his situation changing only increased by 0.0000001% (he could almost hear Han Solo then, _“Never tell me the odds!”_ ).

 

He kept going, even as he imagined literal years passing. With each year, a foot became heavier (never the same foot, they always alternated), his lungs tightened painfully (sometimes he wondered if anything would change if they just stopped entirely, his stomach certainly didn’t seem to function the same), and his head drooped just a little more (sky, horizon, orange water, toes).

 

Until one day he was staring at his feet and wondering why he bothered anymore. Why would anything change now if it hadn’t already? He tried, halfheartedly, to drag another heel forward, but it was just too heavy. Another thought struck him, unbidden, unwelcome.

 

“Ben?” His voice was a whisper, mute from minutesdaysyearsdecades of disuse. He was dead, wasn’t he. Just like Ben. No one answered. Of course, Ben must be in a better place, because Ben hadn’t gotten _his_ uncle shot. Ben hadn’t let down freaking Iron Man. Peter was dead, so there was no point calling out for May, Ned, or Mr. Stark, and he never would have to, because surely, _surely,_ even though ashes had flown through the air, Mr. Stark had saved the people on Earth.

 

Peter was dead.

 

His knees buckled as tears finally spilled. _May’s face swam above him, “Honey, it’s okay, so what if you lost the internship. You are so smart, you are gonna go out there and show him what a wonderful talent he’s missing- Hey, shhhhh, don’t cry. Things may look bad right now, but you are so bright and optimistic, you just never give up Peter, and I doubt that this will hold you down for long.”_

 

I’m sorry May, Peter thought, as the solid liquid below him gave way.

 

He liked being in the liquid a lot more. He didn’t have to think or feel as he sunk deeper and deeper, as orange gave way to red, and red eventually to black. Yes, he drifted in the black, this was a lot more like how he’d imagined death. He floated far longer than he had walked.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had little to do with sunshine and rainbows, and is also the final chapter, so just be aware that there is a sad(ish) ending. However, it does tie a bit into Spider-Man: Far From Home (if fan theories are correct) so there is that.

Hands, fingers, they pressed sharply into his neck, his wrists, they settled on his heavy chest and pushed, pushed, pushed. Pain made him gasp, cough, lunge forward to fight off his unseen attacker. But he fell back again, against something hard,

“-eyes.”

“Peter! Open your eyes for me!”

Eyes? Did he still have eyes, were they unfeeling, like his stomach had been in death. 

Death. 

Was he still dead? Had he been dead? Had it all been a dream? His eyes fluttered open, he did have them after all. A blurry face was above his own, with facial hair that reminded him of Mr. Stark’s. In fact wasn’t it-

He blinked.

Mr. (Dr.?) Strange was kneeling next to him, much like Mr. Stark had before the orange place. Two hands grasped his shoulders, lifting Peter into a sitting position. Once Peter could sit on his own, Strange let go with a huff.

“Jesus. Are you okay?”

Peter nodded slowly, his voice hoarse, “I think so, where are we?”

“Titan.” Strange replied tersely.

Peter stared. So it hadn’t been a dream then. The air hazy, the gravity just slightly off, the ground barren and unforgiving, and the sky unsure of what color it wanted to be. All the same, had any time passed? But it was missing one thing.

Peter scrambled to shaking feet, eyes frantically scanning, searching.

“Woah… just slow down.” Strange reached out a trembling hand, but stopped when he saw Peter’s face.

“Where’s Mr. Stark?”

Dr. Strange’s face fell. He’d been stuck in some sort of alternate dimension, orange, the same color as the soul stone. Steven could only guess, but when he faded away, he must have been transported into it. He could only assume that the same thing had happened to Peter when he found the kid unconscious. He spared a quick glance to the aliens, the woman with the antenna was trying to placate Mr. Lord, while the red and blue guy sharpened his knife. They would have questions too, but he felt that the underaged spider and maybe son of Tony Stark deserved an explanation first.

Thanos’ plan had been to wipe out half of the population, which had happened. But now they were back, with Tony Stark and the blue woman gone. The only explanation was that she and Stark had survived, and left, presumably to stop Thanos. Strange still felt the Titan’s presence, but it was muted… somehow. Steven wasn’t complaining. But the blue woman and Stark… he didn’t feel them anymore. 

They were gone. 

He explained these knowns as best he could, he didn’t sugarcoat. He was a doctor after all. But his heart still clenched as Peter’s face fell with every passing word, then became blank upon his final pronouncement. 

That made him more sorrowful than he would ever admit.

Peter didn’t understand. There was no way Mr. Stark could be dead. Sure it felt like Peter had been in the orange place - soul stone - for a while, but Titan looked exactly the same. Strange didn’t know what he was talking about. Peter would find Tony and prove Strange wrong. Peter wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Tony yet, he hadn’t made it up to Tony for failing on Titan, he hadn’t thanked him for the suit, he hadn’t… he hadn’t… he hadn’t.

“Are you going to be okay?” Strange was looking at him intently, making an odd motion with his hands. An orange (so much orange) gateway appeared in front of Peter, and through it, he could see central park.

“Yeah.” Normally, Peter would have made some sort of exclamation at this exciting new development, it was a portal after all. But for some reason he didn’t feel like it. Peter was going to prove Strange wrong. He took one step, then another.

Dr. Strange watched Peter’s stiff, retreating back. He wanted to comfort the kid, but he barely knew him, and he still owed the aliens an explanation, whenever Mr. Lord stopped sobbing. Steven was responsible for him now, he knew it in his gut. Tony Stark was dead, and even if it had been the only option, he was still responsible. He had chosen all life over the lives of Tony Stark, of that blue woman, of Steve Rogers, and Clint Barton, and James Rhodes, and oh so many more that he had yet to check. 

If the kid who had just vanished through a portal needed him, Steven would help, make no mistake. It was just one small way to make up for all the loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin. Thanks for reading!


End file.
